Water out of Sunlight
by Ryu Kasai
Summary: The summer after the death of Siruis, Harry comes to a few realizations. 1. The voices in your head aren't always your own. 2. A curse can be a blessing. 3. Never trust a man whose greatest desire is a pair of socks.


I'm not rich, therefore you should be able to figure out that J.K. Rowling holds all the rights to the Potterverse and all characters within.

AN: The writing of this fic is going to be a very drawn out and painful affair. I've got plot bunnies molesting my brain all over the place, but the motivation and attention span bug seems to be avoiding me. My goal is a chapter every two weeks, but don't get your hopes up. I reccomend that you read my one shot Incite to Anger, since it gives a bit of background to what's happening to Harry.

Now that you've been warned, read and enjoy!

Water Out of Sunlight

"_Instead he smiled, raised a hand in farewell, turned around, and led the way out of the station toward the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley hurrying along in his wake."_

A strange floating sensation edged with tingles of adrenaline buoyed Harry along as he strode happily toward the Dursley's car. It reminded him of the one time he'd been truly ill, sneezing miserably and mopping his raw, oozing nose on a pair of Dudley's putrescent old socks. His hacking coughs had apparently emanated a bit too loudly from the cupboard, interrupting Vernon's nightly commentary on the news, ranting about how "The whole bloody world is going to hell, if I were running things, it'd all be different."

After a few muffled grunts interspersed with shrill whining, the cupboard door slams open and Petunia spares a moment to glare disgustedly at the snot-soaked socks scattered about the ill seven year old boy. "Drink this, you little wart," she snaps, her horse like face even more shriveled than usual. A bottle is thrust into Harry's hands, the door slams shut, and he dutifully downs the entire bottle of sticky, slimy, sickeningly sweet cough syrup.

The time following that had been surprisingly pleasant. He'd been drifting, uncaring for once of the dark, the spiders, and the groans, thuds, and shrieks which crept from the elder Dursley's bedroom on occasion. He was briefly disconnected, careless, and free.

For the sheer thrill of further aggravating his parody of a family, Harry began to hum and skip merrily along the cracked pavement. Even the mutters of "Fag" and "Ponce" from the male pigs failed to trigger anything but glee in the young wizard. Upon reaching the pale green Cadillac the boy waited patiently for his relatives to catch up, then gracefully pulled open the passenger side door and gestured politely to his Aunt, indicating that the seat was hers. Any color present in her face drained away, leaving Petunia pale and trembling as she gingerly seated herself. Harry pretended not to notice her flinch when the car door shut behind her.

His next action was to settle himself comfortably beside Dudley, whose mass combined with that of Vernon was weighing the driver's side of the car down at a rather noticeable angle. Harry slung an arm companionably about his cousin's shoulders, and proceeded to elicit squeaky replies to what could have passed as an interrogation about the young whale's school year.

"So, Dudders, how's life been treating you?"

Squeak.

"Good, good. Are those blokes at Smeltings giving my favourite cousin the respect he so richly deserves?"

Nod. Vehement squeak.

"Bloody wonderful! 'Cause if they hadn't. I might be forced to take a page out of my Godfather's book,"

_OhgodSirius, miss you so much, want you back, allmyfaultmyfault,_

"and get rid of some of the bastards. I'm sure a great bloody big crater"

_allmyfaultallmyfault, stupid stupid arrogantboy snapewasrightfailurefailuremurde_

"would leave quite the lasting impression on the blokes who survived."

_rer. They all couldhave died, ohgod_

Shrill, frightened squeak. Grunt accompanied by purpling from Vernon's location.

"So, cuz, had any success in the dating department?" Harry winked dramatically and nudged the Dud with his elbow in the roll of fat he guessed was generally located around his ribs.

"If none of them fancy a stunning hunk of flesh like you, I could always whip up a love potion"

_ohgod Snapewasright, worthless, stupidboy, nothingbutaweaponnootheruse_

"and they'll all be fighting each other for the glorious right to date you, you studly boy. I promise… It'll work just like, well, magic!"

_nothingelsetolivefor, he'sdeadhe'sdeadhe'sdeadhe'sdeadhe'sdeadhe'sdead._

The elder pig had taken up lamas breathing by this point, influencing Harry's decision to lay off tormenting his family. Much as they deserved it, he had no wish to die in a car crash due to causing Vernon apoplexy. Besides, it was much more dramatic to leave the M word hanging, glowing with a lurid appeal reminiscent of a neon sign in a red-light district.

The rest of the ride passed in a tense, strained hush broken only by Vernon's harsh, grunting exhalations. Harry fancied that he could almost hear the vein throbbing in the man's temple. Dudley was apparently attempting to meld with the car door opposite Harry. His aunt settled for a corpse like hue, her face so pale that any Necromancer could easily have mistaken her for one of his charges.

When the car screeched to a halt in the driveway of the Dursley residence, nobody moved. They all seemed immobilized, unsure of exactly what came next. The young wizard summarily decided that if he was in for yet another summer of Hell, he might as well take advantage of his relative's shock while it lasted.

"Uncle Vernon?"

The law or gravity holds that what goes up must come down, so when the combined tonnage of the Dursley males hit the seats after their startled jump, the underbelly of the car grated unpleasantly against the ground. With great effort Harry kept all expression from his face, and waited calmly for his uncle's attention.

"What do you want, boy!" the man snapped unpleasantly.

"Could you or Dudders help me get my trunk inside? I hurt my shoulder in a **magic** game where we fly on **broomsticks, **and Madame Pomfrey couldn't fix it with **Ma-**"

"Fine! Dudley, you and I'll carry it in." Apparently dropping the M word more than once wasn't going to be tolerated. The suspension of the car gave a relived groan when relieved of their burden. The two men grabbed the trunk and disappeared within the house, leaving Harry amazed that they could move that fast. The squeak emitted by Petunia drew Harry's attention to her; an evil smirk flashed across his face as he clambered from the car, and stood beside her door. Then, slowly and with great ceremony, he drew open her door and politely gestured toward her house. Her eyes grew impossibly wide, and she quivered mouse-like as his mouth took on a predatory smirk. She suddenly exploded into movement, scurrying past him into the house.

Harry gently shut the car door, then rested his forehead against the cool, smooth metal. The boy allowed himself a moment to soothe the muttering litany of guilt and grief, quieting it to an ignorable murmur. Then, with a shuffling step reminiscent of a far older man, he made his way into his prison.


End file.
